


with me: hello, my name is

by Justausernameonline



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, Hubert is there for like 6 seconds, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Timeskip, might be edited again later, pre-release
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 04:29:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19881667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justausernameonline/pseuds/Justausernameonline
Summary: “It needn’t be a humiliating one,” Edelgard insisted. There was a cold pressure against her chest, threatening to sway her nerves and footing. “And it shows a sign of great negligence, for all the professors and faculty we have for our guidance. We should hurry, report to Professor Byleth that—”"That what?" Petra asked quietly. It was not whispered.//A storm flushes Edelgard and Petra out the forest, not before Petra speaks about recent frustrations. Edelgard makes a promise to her.





	with me: hello, my name is

The storm fell on Edelgard and Petra without preamble as they gathered kindling. It struck all in the grove of tall greens, wild fruit, and deadwood, which had been, moments ago, under blue-silver striations, and sent life skittering for shelter. 

As cool drops drummed against her forehead, Edelgard shared a look with Petra both awestruck and rueful for her oversight, breaking into laughter. The overcast and humid air should had said enough. “It appears we’ve been caught! Would you care for nature’s bath?”

Petra nodded, rather resigned, and pulled her braid forward to rest on her shoulder. “If we must. I don't mind a communal shower. But you must be joking! We’re still, anyway, bringing this back?” She lowered her kindling onto her shoulders like a yoke, sending a smile her way.

Edelgard did not know why she could not speak, her gaze fastening to Petra’s deep brown eyes, even as water slipped down her chin and snuck under her collar. When Petra rearranged her grip to hold the kindling in one hand, free one linking around Edelgard’s arm, she drifted along. Speckled as their clothing were with water, Petra remained warm, and while the rainfall rendered their field of vision smaller, she glided through the grove with confident strides on the uneven ground, guiding Edelgard until they stopped under the cover of a sycamore tree. 

Rain fell less here, but just so. 

What a terrible house leader she would be, Edelgard thought, a pang in her throat, if she watched Petra grow ill on her account, and on a field day nonetheless. Any longer, and they both would— 

She dropped her share of kindling into the grass and moved to shed her jacket. 

“Oh!” Petra said over the din, a note of concern in her tone. “Please, don’t leave your clothes…” 

“This is but a spring shower. You needn’t worry,” she said, but held that in mind. She unclasped her cape from her shoulder. 

Petra let it fall over her and knot under her chin, the cloth already blotting out the drops, puzzlement writ on her face. Whatever she found when she looked at Edelgard, however, made her smile again. “Thank you.” 

“The pleasure is mine,” Edelgard murmured. The smile put her at ease, buoyed by its nourishing effect as they rerouted back to camp.

They slogged through their trail, a winding one made much longer when they followed the clusters of canopies. Sometimes they stopped to admire plants receiving their due, passing sights they would not catch in an almost-controlled environment like Garreg Mach. It was like this for hours, it seemed, but they did have much to share beyond the academic realm, preoccupied with the responsibilities of one attending the Officers Academy. 

And as they took more breaks with the kindling, simply quiet and content, in spite of the possible reprimand from Hubert on behalf of her safety, Edelgard had little regret for borrowed time with Petra. Meeting her eyes, meeting her smiles with her own, trading banter and laughter she would otherwise feel too conscious to have with many onlookers, or to have the kind kept to late nights, were things she tried to remember. Time did not truly exist, and yet it waited for no one; she was merely one of many grasping at fraying knots, trying to make a cohesive whole. 

She could not control time, but she could with forgetting. It was an awful day, should she forget what Petra’s presence wrought. It was a damned day, should she forget these days at all.

“This reminds me of Brigid.” 

At the halfway mark through the trail, Petra crouched before an assortment of mushrooms, guessing at their edibility, knees hugged to her chest. She shrugged and laughed. “We have only two seasons.”

“Two?” Edelgard broke from her brooding, thankful. She joined Petra, gingerly adjusting the kindling on her lap, but she could not care less for the trouble. The rain fell softer now, so she was less and less inclined to hurry. “I’m certain I’ve heard of this long ago, but you can confirm… they are known as ‘monsoons’?”

“Yes.” Petra beamed, but she grimaced soon after. “They are having lots of casualties, though. The dry monsoon bears harvest… but for the wet monsoon… both are very variable. Forgive me, Edelgard.” She began to pluck some mushrooms. “My study of agriculture is being a work in progress.”

“I wouldn’t fault you for that,” Edelgard said. “Surely it’s well known that farmers preside over the means of subsistence, passing their knowledge on to their children, just as ours do. Cultivating an orchard by our own hands would be a cause for celebration.”

“Deserving a feast!” Having gathered more than a dozen or so mushrooms, Petra stood. Edelgard followed, and they set out again. “You do have those? Not only combat?”

“Why, yes. There are many causes to celebrate within a millennia-strong dynasty. Ones for harvests are common… music, dance, fashion. I could name more. Not even death can stop such festivities, but it would be wrong to say they’re done in excess.” Edelgard would tap her chin here. “Among many nobles, however, extravagance continues in their passing. Part of their wealth is spent ahead in preparation for their bodies to become a beautiful vessel. But I’d imagine this idea may be peculiar for you.”

“So we are talking about death now?”

“Ach. I suppose?” If her hands were free, she would be struggling to play with her hair. It was a terrible habit she kept from public view. “I confess, we speak of it casually in Adrestia. Most of us, if you’ve observed me and Hubert, speaking casually about… and… perhaps when I have time to compose myself?…” 

She cast a sideways glance at the grooves of a tree. She knew herself capable of associating with peers close to her age, especially other girls, but that confidence had fled her. This only happened with Petra, and the idea of why that was arrived nowhere near the tip of her tongue.

“No, no,” Petra said quickly, “I’m all fine with it. We could be talking about the ceremonies of it, if you do want it?”

“Only by your wish.”

“I was asking you first.”

“Well—”

“I refuse to do that—back-to-back,” Petra insisted. 

Edelgard chuckled. 

“Please. I like it a lot when you talk about your favorite things.” 

Edelgard didn’t respond for a while, growing impossibly warm in the cool rain. 

Petra stood there as she hugged the mushrooms closer like a bouquet. Her stare was not unkind, but one that let loose that evasive _thing_ Edelgard could not place. 

She opened her mouth, paused to stand the kindling against the ground in the way she did for any sword or axe. Realizing, in a way, it formed a barrier between her and Petra, she raised it again to stand by her hip. “Petra. Thank you.” She looked into Petra’s eyes and sought comfort in them, but could not help noticing that from the angles of the trees’ shadows, they had less than a few hours of light left. There was not that much to see anymore but her. “I was afraid I spoke aimlessly. I’d be happy to continue, but I was hoping to learn more of Brigid on our way to camp as well. May I?”

To her joy, Petra stepped closer to her with a slight smile. “All you need is ask, Edelgard.” 

Her name slipping from Petra’s lips lifted Edelgard and her nerves. “I’ll… I’ll be sure to do that.” Again, she took up the kindling.

“Yes, but… when we’re talking about… our homes, our lands where we have grown, I feel a bit of my homesickness is leaving me. I don’t feel as lost as I had been feeling when I arrived on Hresvelg. And if I could tell you how I truly felt in my native tongue, I would. But I shall try to tell you the funeral rites of Brigid. Not all of it, as we see….”

“Oh.” Their steps were brisk now, but Edelgard’s thoughts churned at a slower pace. “I understand that your stay in Fódlan was a serious undertaking on your part. But surely you have those in Garreg Mach to assist with interpretation and other segments you find trouble with?”

Petra smiled. “I am liking your optimism.”

“So, not even one person…?”

“No.”

Edelgard’s stunned silence spoke for her.

“All work is mine. Only mine. I do feel a suspicion, that I cannot figure out, but I am alone, as far as I know. It is a… I have no better words... learning process.” Petra repeated the last part with some scorn.

“It needn’t be a humiliating one,” Edelgard insisted. There was a cold pressure against her chest, threatening to sway her nerves and footing. “And it shows a sign of great negligence, for all the professors and faculty we have for our guidance. We should hurry, report to Professor Byleth that—”

"That what?" Petra asked quietly. It was not whispered. 

Pausing to glance back, she realized Petra was gone from her side. She stepped around to see Petra hunched perfectly still among the forest’s undergrowth, mushrooms in tight hands as rain cascaded from Edelgard’s cape.

Petra’s eyes flicked to hers and fell, but not before Edelgard caught the fury in them dulling. It was not meant for her, she could tell. She felt shame regardless.

“Why not?” she asked, throat dry, even as she could sense she held part of the answer.

“Do you know Adrestia’s power, Edelgard von Hresvelg?” Petra asked.

“Yes. I speak of it often.”

“You know where you are drawing it from, then.”

“That is a way in which the Empire works.”

“You have said it.”

Edelgard longed to cross the distance, but if Petra’s discomfort had anything to do with her, she thought against it. “You addressed me with my family name.”

“Who wouldn’t want to be drawing pride from that?” Petra sighed. “I don’t have the words. But I am… feeling many things unpleasant. Names. Power. Us. Tomorrow. Before. When you were welcoming me. Why you are keeping at it.”

"Oh." Edelgard dug the heel of her boot against the grass, soaking in her words. There was a struggle in her of many components too elaborate, encouraged, entrenched, too easily committed to her memory to dissect in one day. 

By all means, any apologies from her would be meaningless. If their implicit purpose was to pacify, it would relieve her of her own fleeting guilt, and in consequence, deepen her ignorance. It would do the same with her very sense of pride that stung as if she was solely to blame for all the Empire’s machinations. She wanted to comfort her, but without seeking the center of that comfort, too. There were words for it, too, but she could not find them.

Sometimes, when someone spoke of Adrestia in terms of all things glorious and long-standing, Petra would get a look in her eyes. Most of its appearances came from bragging between houses. Most. She retired earlier on particular nights the Adrestian zeal of conquest took center stage. And Edelgard had watched, never reaching out.

She knew her history well. Everyone’s lives staked on it, if she wanted to be tidy about it. 

And it was no joke.

Tales fitted for a child’s understanding always possessed some truth in them, whereas every land had some and its variations. She was no stranger to hyperbole, but in her time on Garreg Mach, the texts unblemished by Adrestian zeal had her speechless, to say the least. Parsing the falsehoods and omissions from a thousand-year old empire needed more than one lifetime. It especially needed more than a single heir to raise them to scrutiny. 

Still, she followed the line of succession. Her fate. The power that waited upon her coming of age had always shifted like the powerful tides, but the calm in a halcyon day of few rainbows. It took her life to dedicate all her growing years toward balancing that power, but how could she forget what brought her to its summit? 

Then, there. The forces behind their legacies seized Edelgard at once, quailing in the shared space, their bodies and tones, and it took the distant rumble of thunder to return to herself. 

“I cannot claim to fully understand the true depth of your suffering, Petra,” she said, staring into those eyes she so admired, “but I won’t stop trying. I sense, and this is unfortunately true for the time being, that you do not regard me as an equal, no doubt in part of my status. And my inheritance of the Empire. I want to change that.”

“You can be saying all of this,” Petra said, “but still not make a difference.”

“Yes,” Edelgard murmured. “I have many ambitions and beliefs that… put me at odds with several of the old guard, among other things, when I claim the throne. But that should not discourage me from exercising my power now in Garreg Mach.” 

She swallowed, dipping her head. Rain crowded around her eyes, and she blinked them away. The words came easily for her now, speaking not. “You must know, our first meeting brought me hope. I’ve always wanted to work with you, not only as the princess of Adrestia, nor its heir apparent. Someone from it. When you were to sail to Fódlan, I was elated, because, from what I’ve learned over the years… we seek a common goal. I want to change Adrestia for the better. But it looks like I haven’t strayed far from my ancestors’ steps.

“There was a time we patrolled together on pegasi. I’m not certain if you recall, but your words afterward stuck with me." 

“I remember all of it,” Petra said, her face inscrutable. And close. She had walked until she was a step away. 

Edelgard took a deep breath. “Do you still wish for such a future?”

“I do. You are surprising me in unexpected ways, this being one of them. But you still have something to say?”

“I do.”

“You do not need a speech, then. Just speak to me.” 

“This isn’t a speech,” Edelgard said. She hesitated. If Petra thought she spoke only for her own benefit, Edelgard had failed her. “I don’t want to diminish the significance of—”

“I am— sorry —having a feeling that I know what you will say,” Petra replied. “I trust in you, but you are hiding. Relaxation is needed.”

“I suppose I’ve been doing that. But without stating my intentions, how can you still trust me?”

“Please, to be saying it will be okay. You have a beautiful voice and grand words.” Petra raised her brows. “But who else will get to hear them when you are going to get a cold?”

Edelgard’s face grew warm. “Of course,” she whispered, and her face grew warmer. Between all of the things she had feared before broaching the topic, this was far better. Petra trusted her. That was enough. She needed to relax. 

She cleared her throat.

“Petra, I would be honored if you taught me your language." 

“Okay.” 

“You’re certain?” 

“Yes.” 

“Petra, I am truly grateful you’ll take me under your wing in this— Petra?” She blinked as Petra offered her the cluster of mushrooms. 

“And I truly am afraid that you are getting a cold! Edelgard, let us switch.” 

“Petra,” Edelgard said. She sniffed. 

And sniffed.

“Oh,” she sniffed. 

When Petra smiled at her as she draped her in the cape, it did not feel as awful.

* * *

Once they gave Professor Byleth a rundown of their hours in the forest, Edelgard and Petra made for their tent, drenched and drowsy. They had made it before the gloaming horizon as the rain hummed away in their final stretch toward camp. 

They enjoyed being alone for a while as they entered their tent. They lit the lamp gratefully and went to scrubbing the forest from their skin. Except for the fatigue that almost persuaded Edelgard to fall asleep in the warm water prepared for them, the night was no different. The confessions had merely practiced honesty, and they both grew from it. 

Hubert came to conjure fire to for them, but not without giving Edelgard a light scolding. “Only you would force yourself to communicate under distasteful circumstances,” he tutted. 

“You accuse me of antagonizing myself?” Edelgard asked as she tried to make one of her own. Hubert was almost finished with her hair, but she wanted to speed the process, much like the vulnerary that ended her cold. At Hubert’s exaggerated squint, though, she folded her hands, extinguishing her flame. 

“And Lady Petra as well.” 

“But I… am fine…” Petra pointed out.

“No, he’s right. That was rather base of me.” 

“You are forgiven.”

“For now,” Hubert said. He smirked as Edelgard made a slight noise of exasperation. “Anyway, you two were largely absent from this afternoon’s events. If you were there, you wouldn’t have missed the unorthodox method the professor used in preparation of tonight’s dinner. It was noteworthy, I should say." 

“How quaint,” Edelgard said.

“I took notes.”

“Thank you, Hubert.”

“These notes contain diagrams.” 

“Thank you, Hubert. I’ll be sure to reward you handsomely.”

“You’re very, very welcome. Now if you’ll excuse me, Lady Petra, I will see to it that you and Lady Edelgard get your fill.”

Petra giggled. “Thank you, Hubert.”

“Thank you, Hubert.”

He bowed, his smirk softening toward Edelgard as he left the tent. 

Petra reached into the cover of her sleeping bag, where she took out a wide-tooth brush. She motioned toward Edelgard. “We are both messes. Let me do yours first.”

“Please do.” By the end of the storm and Hubert’s magic, the state of Edelgard’s hair came close to a ruffled plume. She made it to Petra’s bag, criss-crossing her legs. 

When Petra brushed her hair, she all but leaned against her with a sigh, eyes falling shut as Petra worked the knots with slow strokes, careful fingers pressing against Edelgard’s back to brace her for tougher ones, threading thoughtfully around in a way that reminded her of her fatigue. 

But Edelgard felt renewed in Petra’s work. She smiled at Petra as she received her ribbons, letting her hand linger on hers before they went to her bag. “Shall I do yours?”

“Of course!” Petra passed her the brush. 

The smaller braids kept the rest all together. Edelgard’s worries of struggling to undo it lifted at once when Petra’s hair spilled onto her lap and left her breathless and still. The dark, lush strands were reminiscent of ripening mangosteens, heady and well cared-for. She would take great pains to maintain that.

“Is something wrong?” Petra murmured.

“No, it’s nothing. You’re— your hair is gorgeous, Petra.” A pleasant pang filled her chest as Petra hummed brightly. “I’ll start.”

From the top of Petra’s scalp, she gathered between her fingers and worked her way down. “What a day this has been,” Petra said as she leaned back. “To hearing you ask about learning. I don’t think anyone has asked me that in ever.”

“It gladdens me, then, to take that swerving step. I won’t take it for granted, what you will teach me.” 

“Achieving that connection across our languages… we will be all the better for it. It is not escaping me, Edelgard, that this is a special circumstance. You know well about Adrestia, so you should know how all of it is keeping together.”

“Indeed.” Edelgard paused in her brushing to work away the knots at the end of Petra’s hair, which were curling a bit in the humid air. “Language is one, isn’t it? It ties us all together.” She hoped it would bring them closer and lessen the inevitable misunderstandings that came from her upbringing in Hresvelg— and even then, there were the regional differences across Adrestia —daring as far to believe they could establish a lifelong bond. 

Petra’s hand fell to her knee, a soft pressure. “As much as it can have us driven apart. We can make a language ours. But, I think, if we are not allowed to, keep, our one from home, there are these unspeakable losses. It is like… hurting someone without your hands! You do not need to touch to harm.” Petra breathed deeply. “I hope I am not sounding harshly.”

“Well... I hardly think that. What you say is right.” Edelgard withdrew the brush and reached for Petra’s shoulder, waiting for her to face her. She met her eyes, soft. “As far as I know, it matters not what I think here.”

“I disagree.”

“You offer a different viewpoint, I mean. A desperately needed one. I can only listen.” 

Petra looked away, chewing her lip. “But I am still learning about Adrestia.” 

“As am I,” Edelgard chuckled. “We’re both in this together.”

“...That has sense. So, how will we begin?” 

Petra faced her in earnest, hands reaching for hers. Edelgard immediately dropped the brush and reciprocated, brushing over her knuckles in quiet admiration as Petra gazed skyward, as though she could see the stars past the ceiling of the tent. Her lips moved quickly to elusive phrases in a possible search for one that would work for a beginner. 

Then Petra was drawing her forward with a smile befitting the venture. By the lamplight, the shadows softly shaped her face, casting deep brown eyes to amber and the tattoo under her right eye in full view. 

“Have an idea?” Edelgard asked.

“Yes, but I need a moment.”

She could have waited forever, holding her, holding wonder as she thought.

“Edelgard! Please, repeating with me…” 

**Author's Note:**

> (A/N): I'm so sleepy so I just yeet this here, six more days! And I still don't have a switch but thank goodness for let's plays I will be hitting like buttons a lot totally
> 
> I hope Petra has a bit of a significant role in FE: 3H as much as I hope for all the other characters in the three houses
> 
> // also yes I might edit this later because it is 4am here and I don't know how I feel about this
> 
> Edit: (07/20, 23:50) I fixed some punctuation errors!
> 
> I also dipped into a few spoilers for Petra and Dorothea and Edelgard... they make me feel a few of my hcs spurious, but we'll see -- but they do add to what we know so far about Brigid and Fodlan! I'm going to avoid posting speculative fics that go after the plot and wonder about scenarios if that makes sense
> 
> Hopefully there will be a Black Eagles playthrough without commentary/a little commentary because my hearing is bad, haha
> 
> Edit: (07/21, 00:42) based on a spoiler, I am correcting Petra's surname from "McNairy" to "MacNeary"! According to houseofnames.com, it can be roughly translated to "easily roused early" or imo "early riser".


End file.
